Employees Get Free Pizza
by Dragonfire719
Summary: A more rational person would have turned around and never looked back. But in the end, there isn't much room for rationality when your dreams are filled with crying children, and the sharp, bloodied jaws of robots ready to crush your skull. This wasn't the reunion they were hoping for, but it would have to do.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Posting this on my phone. I'll edit it on the computer later. First off, I don't own Fnaf obviously. Second, this is a mix of the game novel verse. However I haven't read the entirity of the novels so any OOCness is to be expected. Third, this is somewhat of an AU. Some theories/headcanons of yours may be contradicted. For Ex. Michael is the BV and the older brother doesn't exist. And finally, I'm rating this T for now, but it'll probably change in the future due to any disturbing content. Remember guys, this IS a horror series. BTW I'd recommend checking out this story on AO3; it has all the warnings you should be aware of in the future. **

* * *

It was dark. The only light came from a single flashlight held by small hands. The room was filled with an assortment of toys. Two half open doors stood at opposite sides. He crouched low besides his bed listening for the faintest sound of something breathing. He would occasionally glance at his alarm clock, the glowing red numbers only serving to give him an even greater sense of dread. It played out all throughout the night, like a disturbing symphony of terror. Every so often he would shine his flashlight to see anything moving around in the dark. A pattern to be repeated over and over with seemingly no end.

There was no point in calling for help. Yelling would only attract them to him. No one would arrive to save him. Closing his eyes would not make it go away; it would only kill him faster. Hiding under the covers would offer little protection from the ones already hiding in his room.

Children are often afraid of the monsters under their bed, but he knows they are very real.

He couldn't remember why he was doing this, only that he would not make it to the morning. He could easily sit and wait for the inevitable, but he doesn't want to die. His head hurt, a dull ache from something he doesn't remember. Something important.

There was a soft shuffling at one end of the room echoing from the hallway on the other side of his door.

Something was coming and it was coming for him.

He hurried to the door, opening it ever so slightly to shine his flashlight to see whatever it was coming in the darkness. What he saw froze him in his tracks. He needed to move, to shut his door, but it was too late. Far too late. The nightmare stood tall, it's maw decorated with sharp rows of bloody teeth. The thing's stomach looked as though it was cut open, only to reveal a second mouth ready to swallow a child whole. The golden brown synthetic fur along it's body was withered showing off a robotic skeleton. The red of it's eyes seemed to stare right through him. The purple top hat and bow did little to ease his fear. A red, sticky liquid dripped from it's two mouths making his head hurt worse. It only lasted a short moment, but it felt like an eternity.

He closed his eyes. The animatronic bear lunged for him. For a moment he thought he heard a scream.

* * *

Someone was shaking him. When he opened his eyes the bear was gone. A man was looming above him holding him in a firm grip. The boy's breaths came out in shallow gasps, making it difficult to relax. The man waited for him to begin breathing normally before grabbing a small bottle beside the bed and leaving the room. Eventually, he came back with a glass of water and had the boy use it to swallow the pills. He always hated taking them and often forgot to anyway. The entire time the man was speaking to him in hushed, subdued tones. He looked tired, but mostly kept an unreadable expression making it hard to tell what he was thinking.

None of this was a new occurrence. More often than not he'd wake up screaming and sobbing. And every time the man would be there.

Thunder boomed from outside the house.

The child clung to his father tightly, tears still dripping from his eyes. His father stiffened for a split second, before rubbing his hand behind the child's back to calm him down. The rhythmic motions and the soft sound of rain from outside the house began to lure him into a deep sleep. Before drifting off, he caught one final glance at his father.

The boy couldn't understand how something so cold and unforgiving could be so warm and inviting.

"Just go back to sleep Michael."

* * *

Charlie woke up to the sound of thunder jolting her awake. A flash brightened up the room as the sound of something rattling echoed around the enclosed space. She debated hiding under the covers before a second flash had her flinching. Tossing off the blanket covering her body, she ran to the safety of her parent's room. This wasn't usually something that happened often, but ever since her twin's disappearance she hadn't felt safe. Nothing felt safe anymore.

Her brother was there, always by her side. And then suddenly he wasn't.

Charlie stood hesitantly in front of the door. She didn't reach out to open it, even though she was at the age where she could reach the doorknob. The truth was she didn't actually know if her parent's were asleep in their room. There were times when she'd hear her parent's up and about during the middle of the night ever since that one fateful day. Sometimes they would yell about things her mind was too young to understand. She hated those times.

Slowly and quietly, she crept down the stairs to check if her mom and dad were awake. When she go to the end, she noticed that the lights were on downstairs. They were awake, but they didn't seem to be arguing. Instead, they were intently discussing something in soft voices, as though they were afraid of someone else overhearing. They looked troubled, but about emwhat/em, she didn't know.

She wasn't sure if she wanted to.

She went back to her bed alone. Not long after getting under the covers did thunder boom once more, an involuntary whimper leaving her lips. She fell asleep listening to the falling rain, the sound of a boy crying filled her dreams. She wouldn't remember any of it in the morning.

* * *

It was late at night when Henry had gotten the call. It was one of those times when he'd stayed awake in order to finish some project he was working on. Before, it didn't cause that much of an issue, but now his wife was starting to grow tired of it.

They were right in the middle of an argument when he heard the phone ring. Late night phone calls weren't unheard of, but he'd grown especially wary of them lately. His wife sighed and made a vague gesture to answer it. He almost wasn't shocked to hear the voice when he did.

"Henry?"

"Will? It's almost one in the morning, what is it?" Henry didn't want to sound like a hypocrite for being up so late, but it was true. He was tired and was planning on going to sleep right after the fight he was having. Despite his bad habit of staying up too late, he didn't exactly enjoy doing it. His friend wasn't normally a night owl either. He would only call this late when it was very important, otherwise he'd wait until morning. His wife, who had surely stayed to eavesdrop, looked somewhat surprised to hear who was calling as well.

"Terribly sorry to bother you this late at night, but I needed to talk to you about something," William replied, sounding as calm and collected as always. Only, there was something else to it this time. He always gave off a certain form of charisma, it was what made him such a successful businessman after all, and he always seemed so put together even in the most stressful of circumstances. At times, Henry was rather envious of the way he would present himself, so confident and self-assured. It was almost impossible to tell what mood he was in because of it. However, he had known William for a very long time. Over the years he had learned to pick up on slight cues, whether it was the slight narrowing of his eyes, the small downward twitch of his pleasant smile, or the subtle hard edge in his tone of his voice.

William's voice was almost at a whisper, like he didn't want to wake someone up. He also sounded a bit anxious and irritated. Something was clearly wrong. He shared a glance with his wife.

"What happened?" Henry asked, praying silently for it not to be any more bad news. He already had enough of that to last a lifetime.

"Now, now. Relax. It isn't any more bad news," the man gave a slight, albeit rather subdued, chuckle. "At least, nothing about you or the business anyway."

"Will, just get to the point," Henry sighed, pinching the brink of his nose. William had a bad habit of his own about dancing around certain subjects he didn't want to discuss.

William gave a dramatic sigh of his own before replying, "Very well. I wanted to ask you if Charlie had any nightmares lately."

"Nightmares? Yeah, sometimes. . Why?" At first, it had been rather worrisome, but under the circumstances it was to be expected. No matter how young, the disappearance of a sibling could be traumatic. Still. why would he go out of his way to call in the middle of the night just to ask that?

"I wanted to know how you've been handling it."

"It's been. . . kind of hard to be honest. But we'll get through it. Sammy wouldn't want us to give up, and. . . Will, what are you getting at?"

He was silent. For a moment, Henry was almost sure he had hung up.

"Michael had anther nightmare. He's been having them for months now and they've only been getting worse. I can't remember a single night where he didn't wake up terrified. A night when he doesn't is a night when he doesn't sleep at all."

It was told in one of the flattest voices Henry had ever heard coming from him. To anyone else, it might have even sounded bored.

Henry doesn't remember sleeping the rest of the night either.

* * *

The rain drops poured down against the roof of the house. It was almost comforting, in a way. Listening to the rain while you slept was always pleasant. Although, it didn't seem like he'd be getting any sleep tonight.

A small price to pay, really.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Fixed some weird formatting issues. On my phone. Never again. Ugh. This site pisses me off sometimes. Note to self: use your computer to make edits. Laziness is not worth the aggravation. **

**In which I try writing dramatic snarky humor. Keyword being "try". Also I cut out a portion of this chapter involving Charlie. I figured that it didn't really fit with the rest of it, so it'll be in the next one. I'm hoping to make it longer anyway. Promise not to jump around so much in the later chapters. **

**PS: I didn't mention this on AO3, but the last POV section in chapter one was made vague on purpose. It shouldn't be too hard to figure out who's it was. It isn't important now, but the last line was referencing something that will be cleared up later. I am curious if anyone would be able to guess it tho. **

* * *

It was clearly a hallucination. He had forgotten to take his medication or the ventilation system had malfunctioned. That was it. That was all it was. It wasn't real.

No. Absolutely, _fucking_, not. He is not dealing with this. He drew the line at corpse bunny suits possessed by his dead, _very dead, he had been dead for years, rotting, _father. There wasn't a single thing in hell that would ever make him accept it.

He doesn't know when his life became so horrible. For all he knew, it had always been like this.

Things would have been so different had he just ignored that job advertisement. All he needed to do was throw the newspaper away and forget that the pizzeria had ever existed. Instead, he had filled out the application and went to work every night until this one.

He wished he didn't. Maybe then his nightmares would finally be less vivid.

* * *

It was just as he remembered it. An average two story house on the outskirts of town with a fair number of trees on every side. If you looked closely, you could probably see other buildings in the distance, a glimpse of civilization. The location of the home offered a good deal of privacy without being known as "that single house outside of town where that creepy hermit lives." Not that it would have fit that description either way. It hadn't been lived in for years.

When he entered the house, Mike was pleasantly surprised to find it in decent condition. Quite a bit dusty, but much better than having any unexpected roommates. That was good, because the last roommate he had was irritating as hell. He'd probably have traded that guy for a raccoon in a heartbeat.

This was the first time seeing his childhood home since he had come back to Utah. He had been visiting relatives in England before his father went missing. He had lived with them ever since the man was presumed dead. It wasn't until he turned eighteen he learned bout the old house he had inherited. That was nearly two years ago now. He could have returned sooner, but something always kept him from going back. A relative of his seemed to understand. They had even offered to hire someone to take care of the house for him until he decided what to do with it.

And now here he was, after all these years, finally deciding to move in.

Each of the rooms remained unchanged, almost as if they had been frozen in time. He stared at the pictures hanging on the wall. A family of four greeted him, each one had a happy smile on their face. A man with light blue eyes, a woman with yellow-orange hair, and two young children.

Every single one dead but himself.

He took a quick look inside his sister's room. It was exactly how he had last seen it. A small pink bed, a drawing of a flower she drew hanging on the wall, a mangled robotic toy on the floor, and a small pile of stuffed animals and other plush toys in the corner. The ones of Circus Baby had always been her favorite. Sometime before the robot had been completed, Elizabeth had demanded that their parents get her every version of the toy they made. That hadn't been enough for her in the end, though. It had never been enough.

As he left the room he swore he saw pairs of blue eyes stare back at him.

Even though he hadn't expected it to change, it was still a surprise to see his own room looking the same as when he had left. The room was filled with mostly blue and white. Two dressers, a single bed, and a closet. Some picture frames were hanging near the light switch. The toys he had sitting in his room had long since been put away, even before he went away. His old Freddy plush was sitting neatly on the bed up against the pillows. He found the Foxy plush in the closet, missing its head. The yellow bear was nowhere to be found.

He debated whether or not he should sleep in his old bedroom or not, but he couldn't decide. His tired body seems to do it for him after falling asleep on the couch while watching TV. A small part of him wonders what it'd be like to never wake up again.

The stack of paper on the coffee table remained untouched. He'd fill it out tomorrow.

* * *

There was a young girl standing in front of the entrance. She had tan skin and ginger hair tied into two pigtails. Her green eyes stared at him, with a considering look on her face. She couldn't have been any older than twelve.

"Hey Mister," she called.

"Um, hello?"

"You were that guy from the other day, right? The one with the interview," she said, still staring at him. Mike tried very hard to pretend it didn't unnerve him. He hoped he did a decent job of it, because pretending was something he had been doing for a very long time.

"Yeah, I am. Why do you ask?" And more importantly,_ how_ and _why _did she know that? He thought he was being discreet. The last thing he needs is for the world to figure out that his ninja skills had gotten rusty over the years. The fact that he never had any ninja skills to begin with was irrelevant.

"Just thought I'd warn you. I hear that the animatronics come to life at night. And if you die, they hide your body and never tell anyone," the creepy girl stated.

"Huh. Sounds neat," he deadpanned.

"I know, right?" the Creepy Girl laughed. Which, okay. From that moment onward, little miss pigtail was forever going to be Creepy Girl in his mind. If she didn't like it, too bad, he refuses to call her anything else. Seriously, who laughs at the thought of horrifying death? Now, welcoming it he could understand. Sometimes enough is enough, but no one really looks forward to it. No, you just look death straight in the eye and say,_ What took you so long?_

He was pretty sure he was over that angsty teen phase of his, but you never really knew with those kind of things.

"Why'd you apply for the job anyway?" Creepy girl asked.

His response was immediate. "Free food."

She gave him an odd look before curiously tilting her head. "Are you insane, Mister?"

Mike figured that if it was coming from her then he should probably be worried for his sanity, But he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Clearly you underestimate the word _free_."

As uncomfortable as most of the conversation was, it wasn't too horrible. She told him her name, which he isn't even going to bother remembering, because Creepy Girl fit her much better and nothing was going to change his mind about that. He also managed to buy a pack of gum from her, which was always a plus. He should probably work on fixing that addiction he has, but if he's going to be addicted to anything, chewing gum is probably the way to go.

As he stands in front of the doors, he inwardly thanks her for giving him a distraction, because just creepily standing there contemplating his life choices in front of a children's restaurant wouldn't have ended well for anyone. Instead, he has the looming threat of death hanging over him, which is still infinitely better than most of the things he thinks about on a daily basis.

The first thing Mike noticed when he entered the building was the sound of children screaming. If he didn't know any better he'd say that there was good cause to scream in a place like this, but their joyous faces ended up putting a damper on his theory. Oh well. he had better things to do than imagine others finally seeing the place for what it really was.

Like getting a job for instance.

He eyed the stack of paper in his hand. The contract wasn't too long, but the waiver did set off plenty of glaring red flags. All of which he promptly ignored. He didn't sign in cursive, but he figures they'd be too desperate to care. Apparently not many people wanted the job after certain rumors began spreading. He hasn't heard the details aside from Creepy Girl's explanation and a few other things, but he had a pretty good feeling he knows emexactly/em what they were.

He also had a fairly good reason for applying, as strange as that sounds.

The kids ran around the restaurant as hyper as they ever were. Most of their parents were off in the corners taking much needed breaks from their supposed "bundles of joy". Although he had never had children, he could understand the need to take a break from something. After all, he had been doing that his entire time living in England.

"Mr. Schmidt! It's so good to see you again!" the manager called in a chipper voice.

The current manager of the restaurant was a short and thin woman no older than 30. She always had her blonde hair tied in a small ponytail. The square glasses she wore drew extra attention to her hazel eyes. Not at all what you'd expect from a place like this. From the bright smile on her face, you could almost imagine that Fazbear Entertainment was exactly how they presented themselves. Aside from the "we are not liable" thing they had going on. They made that part pretty clear. He knows because he read the fine print. He's crazy, not stupid.

There was always something off about her. Mike doubts anyone would really bother paying attention to notice, but her smile never really seemed to reach her eyes, almost as though there was something fake about it. The again, he wasn't any stranger to cheerful fake smiles either.

"Same to you. I was just dropping by to give you the contract and the other papers you gave me," Mike replied, giving her a pleasant grin that was about as fake as her polished nails. As she took the papers, her smile seemed to grew even wider.

"That's great! You'll start tonight. Someone will call to brief you on the job during your shift." She only looked to see if he actually signed them. "And be sure to fill out the logbook if you need to pass the time."

She handed him a small notebook. _SECURITY LOGBOOK_ was engraved on the cover underneath the restaurant's logo. It would only a few days on the job before he'd cross it out and write _SURVIVAL _in red ink.

The woman's smile didn't falter. "It's such a great job, you'll love it."

It was amazing really, how anyone could say such an obvious lie.

"I'm sure I will."

* * *

He stared at the logbook. The letters of the questionnaire gazed back at him, almost mockingly.

_List 10 reasons why applying seemed like a good idea at the time._

A strange question to ask were it from anywhere else. There are plenty of reasons emnot/em to apply. More than he can count even. With tales of missing children and animatronics coming to life it's a wonder the pizzeria still received customers at all.

It wasn't because of the pay, which is a shame. From his experience, a lot of problems could be solved with money. But no, his reason was a bit more specific than that. He could earn minimum wage at a lot of other places with infinitely less risk involved.

He's not sure exactly why he felt the need to see the place again. It certainly wasn't simple nostalgia. The cheerful memories he had there as a child faded long ago. It was because of that franchise that his big happy family headed down into the hollowed out graves specifically carved out for each of them. All that was left now was a long list of bittersweet memories better to be forgotten.

A more rational person would have turned around and never looked back. Maybe they would have burned the paper and threw the ashes away, never to be seen again.

But in the end there isn't much room for rationality when your dreams are filled with crying children, and the sharp, bloodied jaws of robots ready to crush your skull.

With all this in mind, Michael wrote his answer down on the space provided. He already lied about his name; he owed them this simple truth at least.

_Employees get free pizza_


End file.
